Pyle describes himself as a survivor, above all else. After dropping out of Manatee High School, he overcame alcoholism to build a clothing business called Jamaican Me Crazy and a construction business called Florida Wall and Fence. Now he is bouncing back from bankruptcy as an ultra-marathoner who finds strength in the most grueling races.

A tattoo on his left forearm proclaims that "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."

Pyle, 54, will run the First Watch Sarasota Half Marathon Sunday morning, but that is an easy jaunt for someone who does 50- and 100-mile events. He revels in being in the best shape of his life.

"It's interesting," he says with a grin nearly as wide as his moustache. "I seem to be getting younger."

YMCA connection

When Pyle decided to quit drinking — "Feb. 28, 1987" — he checked into a treatment center just behind the Berlin Branch of the Sarasota Family YMCA. Part of the deal was free workouts at the Y.

"I've been a member ever since," Pyle says. "I've been on the board the last 20 years."

Jim Purdy, vice president of the Sarasota YMCA, knew Pyle from the very beginning.

"John had that certain something," Purdy says. "It's almost an innocence and enthusiasm and energy. You could tell that this guy had a tremendous amount of potential. He's a great entrepreneur. Once he puts his mind to something, he's going to do it."

Over the years, Pyle became a donor and fundraiser. His construction background comes in handy at the Y. Just recently, he helped figure out beam supports for a new fitness class.

"He's an incredibly bright guy," Purdy says. "Really mechanical and detail-oriented. He takes ownership of a project and sees it through."

Highs and lows

John and Toni Pyle fit together like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. He could hardly be more intense, with his bald head and blue-eyed stare. She has dark eyes, dark hair and an easy laugh.

They've been married for 32 years. Six cats, no kids. They met when they both worked at the Maas Brothers department store in Bradenton.

John went to work in the tomato business, building a career and a drinking habit.

"Oh, my God, those were crazy days," Toni says. "He was partying and we'd go out dancing and drinking. Then it got worse. It was bad for a long time, but I didn't know it was that bad."

After John stopped drinking, the couple started a resort clothing business on St. Armands Circle. Soon Jamaican Me Crazy had locations from Orlando and Naples to Hilton Head Island, S.C., and Martha's Vineyard, Mass.

"It was so much fun," Toni says. "We created the whole concept. We created everything. The shop was cute."

This was in the 1990s. When rents went up and the economy went down, the Pyles got out of the clothing business.

In the next decade, John and a partner went into construction. They built walls for housing developments. That went boom and then it went bust, leaving them bankrupt.

The Pyles lost their big house on an acre of land, along with fancy cars, jewelry and art — everything.

Now they rent a little bungalow that friends own in Sarasota. John does home improvement work. Toni cleans houses.

They're matter-of-fact in describing their situation. They're sure things will get better.

"I'd love to have a nice home again," Toni says.

"And we will," John says.

"And we will," Toni says.

'Hold it high'

Pyle hastens to add that life has not been easy. He had to take a hard look at himself.

He did not like what he saw.

"I found myself less confident without that Rolex watch on my wrist," John says. "I mean, how shallow is that?"

He turned to running and made a new start. The miles added up. His first marathon was an epiphany.

"It changed me," he says. "I was never the same after that."

Running with the American flag was almost an accident. Just before a 9/11 anniversary race in Sarasota, he pulled a flag off his front porch.

The response was immediate. The support was impressive.

People cheered. People waved and shouted. People wanted to run with him. People wanted to help carry the flag.

"That energy, it helps you," he says. "It feeds you, especially in the later miles of a marathon."

People often assume Pyle is a veteran, but he has never served in the military. He is very conscious of the responsibility of carrying the flag.

"That thing gets heavy when nobody's looking at it, but there's no walking with it, no putting it on your shoulder," he says. "In Miami last year, there was this old guy along the race course. He said, 'If you're going to hold it, hold it high.'"

Running Mon

Pyle's latest business plan is for a fitness apparel company called Running Mon. The logo features a playful Caribbean figure.

"We're going to put a flag in this guy's hand," he says.

Get it?

Pyle's best advertisement might be his own running at marathons and ultramarathons. He has done lots of photos and interviews for newspapers and magazines such as Runner's World.

Next week he will run with the flag in a Virginia Beach marathon. Next month he will run with the flag in a 100-kilometer race in Fort Lauderdale.

Next year Pyle hopes to run with the flag from San Francisco to New York. He could raise money for wounded veterans. He could speak to school groups along the way.

"I'm just getting started," he says. "Somewhere along the way I realized that what I do touches a lot of people."

<p>Marathoners from coast to coast know John Pyle for his flamboyant moustache — a gray walrus worthy of a Civil War general — and his ability to run long distances carrying a 3-by-5-foot American flag.</p><p>People assume he is a veteran, but that is not the case.</p><p>There is much more to the man behind the flag.</p><p>Pyle describes himself as a survivor, above all else. After dropping out of Manatee High School, he overcame alcoholism to build a clothing business called Jamaican Me Crazy and a construction business called Florida Wall and Fence. Now he is bouncing back from bankruptcy as an ultra-marathoner who finds strength in the most grueling races.</p><p>A tattoo on his left forearm proclaims that "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."</p><p>Pyle, 54, will run the First Watch Sarasota Half Marathon Sunday morning, but that is an easy jaunt for someone who does 50- and 100-mile events. He revels in being in the best shape of his life.</p><p>"It's interesting," he says with a grin nearly as wide as his moustache. "I seem to be getting younger."</p><p><b>YMCA connection</b></p><p>When Pyle decided to quit drinking — "Feb. 28, 1987" — he checked into a treatment center just behind the Berlin Branch of the Sarasota Family YMCA. Part of the deal was free workouts at the Y.</p><p>"I've been a member ever since," Pyle says. "I've been on the board the last 20 years."</p><p>Jim Purdy, vice president of the Sarasota YMCA, knew Pyle from the very beginning.</p><p>"John had that certain something," Purdy says. "It's almost an innocence and enthusiasm and energy. You could tell that this guy had a tremendous amount of potential. He's a great entrepreneur. Once he puts his mind to something, he's going to do it."</p><p>Over the years, Pyle became a donor and fundraiser. His construction background comes in handy at the Y. Just recently, he helped figure out beam supports for a new fitness class.</p><p>"He's an incredibly bright guy," Purdy says. "Really mechanical and detail-oriented. He takes ownership of a project and sees it through."</p><p><b>Highs and lows</b></p><p>John and Toni Pyle fit together like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. He could hardly be more intense, with his bald head and blue-eyed stare. She has dark eyes, dark hair and an easy laugh.</p><p>They've been married for 32 years. Six cats, no kids. They met when they both worked at the Maas Brothers department store in Bradenton.</p><p>"He had hair," Toni exclaims, slapping her thigh. "He had lots of red hair. And skinny — real skinny."</p><p>John went to work in the tomato business, building a career and a drinking habit.</p><p>"Oh, my God, those were crazy days," Toni says. "He was partying and we'd go out dancing and drinking. Then it got worse. It was bad for a long time, but I didn't know it was that bad."</p><p>After John stopped drinking, the couple started a resort clothing business on St. Armands Circle. Soon Jamaican Me Crazy had locations from Orlando and Naples to Hilton Head Island, S.C., and Martha's Vineyard, Mass.</p><p>"It was so much fun," Toni says. "We created the whole concept. We created everything. The shop was cute."</p><p>This was in the 1990s. When rents went up and the economy went down, the Pyles got out of the clothing business.</p><p>In the next decade, John and a partner went into construction. They built walls for housing developments. That went boom and then it went bust, leaving them bankrupt.</p><p>The Pyles lost their big house on an acre of land, along with fancy cars, jewelry and art — everything.</p><p>Now they rent a little bungalow that friends own in Sarasota. John does home improvement work. Toni cleans houses.</p><p>They're matter-of-fact in describing their situation. They're sure things will get better.</p><p>"I'd love to have a nice home again," Toni says.</p><p>"And we will," John says.</p><p>"And we will," Toni says.</p><p><b>'Hold it high'</b></p><p>Pyle hastens to add that life has not been easy. He had to take a hard look at himself.</p><p>He did not like what he saw.</p><p>"I found myself less confident without that Rolex watch on my wrist," John says. "I mean, how shallow is that?"</p><p>He turned to running and made a new start. The miles added up. His first marathon was an epiphany.</p><p>"It changed me," he says. "I was never the same after that."</p><p>Running with the American flag was almost an accident. Just before a 9/11 anniversary race in Sarasota, he pulled a flag off his front porch.</p><p>The response was immediate. The support was impressive.</p><p>People cheered. People waved and shouted. People wanted to run with him. People wanted to help carry the flag.</p><p>"That energy, it helps you," he says. "It feeds you, especially in the later miles of a marathon."</p><p>People often assume Pyle is a veteran, but he has never served in the military. He is very conscious of the responsibility of carrying the flag.</p><p>"That thing gets heavy when nobody's looking at it, but there's no walking with it, no putting it on your shoulder," he says. "In Miami last year, there was this old guy along the race course. He said, 'If you're going to hold it, hold it high.'"</p><p><b>Running Mon</b></p><p>Pyle's latest business plan is for a fitness apparel company called Running Mon. The logo features a playful Caribbean figure.</p><p>"We're going to put a flag in this guy's hand," he says.</p><p>Get it?</p><p>Pyle's best advertisement might be his own running at marathons and ultramarathons. He has done lots of photos and interviews for newspapers and magazines such as Runner's World.</p><p>Next week he will run with the flag in a Virginia Beach marathon. Next month he will run with the flag in a 100-kilometer race in Fort Lauderdale.</p><p>Next year Pyle hopes to run with the flag from San Francisco to New York. He could raise money for wounded veterans. He could speak to school groups along the way.</p><p>"I'm just getting started," he says. "Somewhere along the way I realized that what I do touches a lot of people."</p>